


Pathways

by championofnone



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her Crow had disappeared, but he couldn't stay hidden from her for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step One

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely hate the way Zevran's cameo is handled in DA2, mostly because there's no way in hell my Warden wouldn't be chasing after him. So, this is my retelling. Please let me know what you think!

Kirkwall is not a city known for its hospitality. Rather, a typical Lowtown greeting would be a punch to the face and getting mugged, and that's the nicer welcome.  
  
Aren Surana has always loved the dark; it made more sense for her to travel at night since it made getting caught or seen less likely. As both an elf and a mage, the majority of everyone she met disliked her very quickly. Although her policy of "attack first, ask questions later" probably didn't help that very much.  
  
She pulled her hood tighter around her face to try and hide her bright red hair; no dye ever seemed to affect it so she gave up after Jowan nearly sliced her face in half the last time she tried to change the color.  
  
Aren frowned, remembering the last time she had seen him. They had been friends in the Tower...more or less. Jowan was someone Aren could be around without him being absolutely terrified of her slightly sadistic antics. Jowan was constantly annoyed at her for her pranks, whether they simply be small water spells that would splash him at the worst of times or sabotaging his attempts at flirting. She missed him, even after feeling nothing but anger at the betrayal. He didn't have to lie to her about practicing blood magic; she would have joined him. It was the user, not the magic itself, that lacked control.  
  
She leaned on the ship railing as it approached the docks of Kirkwall, and she guessed it was around three in the morning. Too early to go search for this Champion. She knew the Crows were in the city and that meant one thing.  
  
And she was determined to get to their goal before them.  
  
Her green eyes shut as she smiled and remembered the few peaceful weeks she'd had with Zevran before he dashed away to Antiva, leaving behind a necklace and what could barely be called a note.  
  
"' _I'll be back soon' my arse_ ," Aren thought, snorting lightly as she reopened her eyes. The Gallows loomed across the harbor as they closed in on a docking bay. She could almost smell the tension from the mages locked away in there. She pitied them, knowing they most likely heard of how she liberated the Ferelden Circle and given it near autonomy. Her only condition was that she be allowed to review all rules and regulations before they were pushed on apprentices and other Circle mages. She worked them out with Irving, who in turn gave them to Greagoir, and she would finalize them. She despised the Chantry ("Shitry" as she and Anders used to call it), and refused to allow them any more say in her Circle than need be.  
  
Anders. The other reason she came to the City of Chains. She had wondered where her other escapist mage had gone to and her answer came to her in the form of Carver Hawke, the Champion's brother, as it would be. Fate worked in funny ways like that. They'd always managed to run across each other in Amaranthine; she wondered how long it would take for it to happen here, as well. She was furious about what happened with Justice; even though Anders had been the one to offer, Justice should have known to never merge with a human. Nothing ends well for either party.  
  
She braced herself as the boat bumped into a dock, but recomposed herself immediately. It would not do well for her to be distracted in any way in this cursed city. She moved over to where the rest of the passengers were disembarking and waited her turn.

Soon enough, she hoped to have all of her questions answered.


	2. Reunions and Visitations

Eldrun Hawke had never been a morning person, even as a child. This became notably worse when his lover moved into his Hightown estate.  
  
"Eldrun, you need to get up," Fenris sighed, walking over to the four-poster bed the two shared. "Varric wants us to meet with some assassin that's been trying to talk to him."  
  
Eldrun groaned, shoving a pillow over his head. "Why me?" He whined. "Why can't Isabela do it? She's better at persuading people to do something or to make them go away or to skip in circles or whatever she wants them to do. Or make Aveline make them go away. I don't want to get out of bed."  
  
"Hawke, you're acting like a child," Fenris snorted, one black eyebrow raising up as he crossed his arms and leaned on the bedframe, easily within Eldrun's reach. "The sun is up. You should be as well."  
  
His grip on the pillow tightened. "No. I refuse."  
  
"Hawke, do not make me force you out of this room. You're stark naked, it will scar Sandal and Orana, and I'm willing to actually do it."  
  
Eldrun pouted at that, removing the pillow and sitting up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes before giving Fenris a soft glare. "You're a cruel person, you know that? You're very mean to me."  
  
Fenris smiled, straightening and reached over, pushing the mage's auburn hair out of his eyes. "If that is what you believe, Hawke. Come, Orana made breakfast and I would enjoy food before we see what this assassin wants."  
  
The taller man swung his legs over the bed and unwillingly began dressing. "I will hold you accountable for any mood swings I have today, Fenris."  
  
"I'm sure that will pain me greatly," the elf deadpanned, and headed out the bedroom door. "I will be in the kitchen when you're done with your beauty regimen."  
  
"I HAVE no 'beauty regimen,' you snarky bastard!" Eldrun yelled after Fenris's retreating back as the elf laughed. "Just because I use lotion does not make it one!" Huffing, he finished tugging his boots on and headed downstairs, deciding to stop by the writing desk before joining Fenris and the rest in the kitchen.  
  
A letter with a shiny gold wax seal caught his eye first, faintly recognizing it as the crest of the Ferelden royal family. He immediately picked it up and opened it while walking toward the kitchen.  
  
Fenris looked up from loading his plate with eggs. "What is that?" he asked, nodding towards the paper.  
  
"A letter from the king himself. ' _I request your presence at noon at Viscount's Keep. Please come._ '" Eldrun flipped the paper over, wondering if maybe something was written on the back. "It seems real. From what I know King Alistair isn't the most eloquent. But that's what Queen Anora's for. She does the talking, he sits there and looks pretty and plays Wicked Grace with a drunk dwarf."  
  
"Ahh, he is quite the charmer though!" Bodhan added happily, laying a plate of eggs down in front of his son. "Sandal and I traveled with him and the Warden Commander during the Blight. We couldn't return to Orzammar and felt safest with them. Sandal became quite fond of the Commander and her mabari, Butler I think his name was?"  
  
Sandal grinned and clapped his hands. "Doggie!" he exclaimed, with a loud bark following from Eldrun's own mabari.  
  
"Dagger! Quiet yourself!" Eldrun called out to the area by the fireplace, where the dog was awaiting scraps. The mabari whined but quieted down at Eldrun's order. "So, I'll head up there at noon, I guess. I'll get Anders and Aveline; she was at Ostagar and he's a Warden. Maybe they knew each other." He glanced at Fenris, hoping for reassurance. It was a given the warrior would be with him; they were essentially inseparable.  
  
Fenris nodded, rolling his eyes at the mention of Anders. "I don't see why not. My thoughts on Anders remain the same, Hawke. I don't know why you still trust him." Eldrun shrugged in response, beginning to shovel food into his mouth.   
  
The pair left after breakfast, Eldrun grinning at the feel of sunlight on his face and a breeze blowing his hair back more than normal. "I'll never get tired of this weather," he said, stretching as Fenris closed the door behind them.  
  
The warrior frowned. "The warmth is better. I dislike cold weather and this breeze is too cold for my liking."  
  
Eldrun chuckled, linking his fingers with Fenris's as they began the trek into Darktown to collect Anders. Thankfully, they ran into Aveline who was finishing a Lowtown patrol in immediately after.  
  
"So we are to meet King Alistair?" Aveline asked, an excited smile on her face as they entered the Hightown market. "I'm actually nervous. I feel foolish, but I do."  
  
Anders had been quiet the entire time. He'd felt uneasy since the previous night; he felt as if another Warden was in Kirkwall but had no way of telling who. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know lest they be hunting him down again.  
  
Rounding the corner to the courtyard before the Keep, Anders stopped dead in his tracks and looked off towards a row of pillars, scanning the crowd quickly. Aveline and Eldrun were caught up in exchanging stories they'd heard of the Warden and King Alistair's journey to end the Blight, but Fenris noticed, and touched Eldrun's shoulder, signaling him to wait.  
  
Eldrun looked back, and noticed the scrutiny on Anders's face, and that he was rooted in place. "Anders? Is everything alright?"  
  
Anders shook his head and took off in the direction he was staring at, spinning what seemed to be a petite woman towards him, her hood falling back in the process, her long ears and bright red hair revealed. "Commande, what are you doing here!?" he ask, crushing her into a hug before she could reply.  
  
Aveline and Eldrun looked at each other, both fairly shocked. When a Warden Commander showed up, something was generally about to go very, very wrong. Both knew of what happened in Amaranthine; the city scorched and Vigil's Keep saved, blighted land that may never recover. The rest of the group wandered over to where Anders and the Commander were talking, his hands still on her shoulders.  
  
"Well you just made part of my journey easier," the elf replied. "I figured we'd run into each other before I'd actually have to work to find you."   
  
Anders smiled sadly in response. "I'm sorry about that. I left once, came back, and left again...but you had already disappeared before that second leave."  
  
She shook her head. "I got a Crow to sing, got word Zevran was headed this way. So, I followed." She glared down at the ground a moment before looking sharply up at Anders. "And I know exactly what happened with Justice. Do not hide yourself from me, spirit. I resent you both quite thoroughly for disobeying a direct order."  
  
Eldrun stepped forward, putting his hands up in a defensive stance. "Not to shatter this cute little reunion, but we have a meeting to attend. You are welcome to join us, Commander, and we can all get drunk at the Hanged Man until Varric tells us what to do about some business."  
  
"Of course," she nodded. "And to avoid some awkward introductions, please just call me Aren." She stepped in quickly next to Anders, and the group made their way up to the viscount's vacant office. 


	3. Step Two

Eldrun opened the door to the Keep, the large stone swinging wide, Fenris barely pulling him out of the way in time to let a fuming Meredith pass by without incident. Fenris raised an eyebrow and glanced at him; Eldrun shrugged in return and entered the building.  
  
As they approached the stairs at the center of the building, the blonde king looked over at them from a conversation with the bearded man beside him and grinned. "Hello! I just had the loveliest talk with your Meredith."  
  
The first thing Aren noticed was how utterly  _weary_  Alistair looked. While they had traveled together, and when she had visited him, he had always looked cheerful and at least fairly carefree. Now, his face was covered in creases and worry lines; it looked like he carried far too much burden on him. She stayed behind Anders for the time being, grateful for her smaller stature, to let the Champion deal with whatever business Alistair called him here for.  
  
"Oh, that must've been the cheerful greeting! At least she didn't want to stomp your face into the ground when she first met you," Eldrun grinned at him.  
  
Alistair laughed, the sound far different than how Aren remembered it. "I take you you're speaking from experience." The senior warden stared at Anders for a moment. "Hey, weren't you...you're a Warden, aren't you? I can sense it."  
  
Anders gave him a half-smile, arms crossing over his chest. "That's the rumor. Weren't you?"  
  
"That's the rumor." He returned the half-smile, and turned back to Eldrun, expression sobering, "I just wanted to check on the city. I'm afraid Ferelden may not have many friends right now and we're still recovering from the Blight. It would be nice to see the Free Marches - Kirkwall included - have her back. You protect this city, you hear me?"  
  
Slightly offended, Eldrun frowned at him. "This is my home. I will do whatever it takes to protect the people here. I do not know why you would think anything else."  
  
Alistair smiled sadly. "I have seen people turn their backs on countries that needed them in the name of 'protecting' it and its people." It went unsaid he meant Loghain; the man's betrayal still stung any Fereldan badly. "Anyway, I shall let you go. I'm sure you have things to do, people to meet, other things that will better occupy your time than talking to me."  
  
Eldrun laughed. "You're the king of my homeland, ser, it was an honor to meet you," he said as they shook hands.  
  
Aveline knelt to one knee and bowed her head. "I was at Ostagar, ser. I remember the tragedy as if it were yesterday. At least justice has been served."  
  
Alistair waved his hands. "Stop bowing, it's alright! Yes, thankfully Loghain is gone. Dead with honor, but still dead."  
  
As Eldrun, Aveline, and Fenris turned to go, Alistair noticed the blonde mage hadn't yet moved, and didn't until a scowl crossed over his face until he looked behind himself and stepped to his right.  
  
Alistair made an odd noise that made his uncle give him a questioning look. "Aren!" he exclaimed, stepping forth to lift the small mage up into a hug. She squirmed, pushing at his shoulders, until he put her down. She smoothed out her robes before speaking.  
  
"I'm not here for pleasantries, Alistair. I'm in Kirkwall to look for one of my Wardens and Zevran. The Crows took flight and they landed here." She frowned further. "I'm determined to catch them before they reach him."  
  
"I thought you two were in Antiva together ruling over the Crows?" he frowned as Anders did the same. "Ah, is there somewhere more private we can talk?" He still scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous, Aren noted.  
  
"I doubt Aveline would have a problem with us using her office," Anders suggested, nodding his head towards the staircase to their right. "She's captain of the guard."  
  
They remained quiet as they walked to Aveline's office, but Aren could feel the onslaught of questions about to come her way from Alistair; he was nearly buzzing with them. And they began when the door shut.  
  
"I need to know why you did that," Alistair asked, not looking Aren in the eye and with anger in his voice, launching into his questions with no time to spare. "Why did you let Amaranthine burn? PEOPLE WERE STILL ALIVE IN THERE! And then you ran away. You ran from the people who needed you and the city that needed you. And you ran to chase a ghost."  
  
Aren's temper bloomed. "You're blaming  _me_? And you only worry about one city while I had that, the countryside, and Vigil's Keep to protect while trying to keep everyone from killing each other, while I was driving out droves of darkspawn, and you blame only **me**? What about those lives? Where were _you_? You could have helped me. I'm not the only one who has power in Thedas. I'm not the only Warden, Alistair."  
  
"I was busy!" he exclaimed.   
  
"Oh yes, busy letting Anora do all of the work. I honestly don't know why I put you on the throne, you haven't been doing much lately with the exceptions of being a trophy husband and winning a popularity contest. She's done all the work." Aren spat.   
  
Alistair snapped and he shoved her against the wall, arm across her shoulders at her collarbone. Anders jerked forward and pulled him backwards, the force enough to make the king stumble a little. "Don't you  **dare**  harm her!" he nearly growled, jaw clenched and holding a small amount of force magic in his hand, ready to send Alistair out a window.  
  
The warrior rubbed his shoulder and glared at the other man. "That hurt, you arse. Aren, I'm not trying to hurt you, tell him to stand down."  
  
Aren kept her voice calm, but she could not stop the coldness of it. "Anders. Thank you, but I can protect myself." Anders kept a defensive stance but quieted his magic. "He would not truly hurt me. Not intentionally, anyway."   
  
Anders snorted. "Good." He stepped side, but remained tense. The glare, if anything, grew harsher.  
  
Alistair sighed, turning to face Aren again. "I'm not trying to accuse you, Aren, I just want answers. It doesn't make sense to me. I know we didn't always agree on methods, but so many people  _died_  that night...I just can't see you making that decision."  
  
"I had to choose a city where nearly everyone was dead or worse, a countryside rampant with darkspawn and taint, or a Keep where everyone was gathering for safety that had become the sole beacon of hope. I made my decision out of practicality, not what I wanted." The room grew a little warmer; her magic was screaming at her to flare, but she kept it under control. "I wanted to storm that city and eradicate every last sodding darkspawn I saw. But I couldn't. I had a responsibility, and I stuck to it just to see my adviser and close friend die in my arms while I could do nothing about it. I ran because I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone expected something from me, everyone wanted me to solve their problems. I never wanted this. I wanted a life with Zevran, going on adventures that wouldn't end with a blade at my neck, just some time to be happy. But no. I can't even get that because he disappeared and everyone still wants something from me and I don't **get** to be happy."

Alistair thought she looked like she was about to cry, but he knew her better. It stung him more than if she would. "Do I still seem like such a monster?" she pleaded. "Am I Uldred for making a selfish decision? Is it wrong for me to want a peaceful life? To have something normal after being locked in a tower for being born myself and then sentenced to saving the world and an early death? I never asked for any of this. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted glory, never wanted fame."  
  
Both of the men in the room were speechless. Alistair finally understood why she'd gravitated towards the Crow so long ago during the Blight; who better than someone else that built an intricate mask? She never talked about the burden she felt, not even to her fellow Warden, and Alistair felt ashamed for taking so long to realize it. Anders understood, he sympathized with her; they had actually arrived at the Tower around the same time and had met then. They'd both managed to escape a handful of times, but Jowan took over most of Aren's attention eventually, and he dropped all contact with anyone after he succeeded. She'd never been one to open up, and he wasn't surprised she hadn't changed.  
  
"I...I don't know what to say, Aren, I-I'm sorry...," Alistair mumbled, stumbling over his words. "I had no idea you felt like you had that much pressure on you."


	4. Meetings and Discourse

The smaller mage crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back on the wall, bowing her head slightly, causing her hair to form a protective curtain. "No, you knew. You just didn't want to know because you were so angry at me for putting you on the throne. You never contacted me after that initial visit, Alistair. I don't know why and frankly, I don't care. You made your choice not to associate yourself with anything going on with the Wardens at that time, so don't go yelling at me when I have to make the hard decisions for everyone else."  
  
Alistair swallowed. "Aren, you have to understand-"  
  
"No," she snapped, green eyes flashing up at him, " _you_  have to understand. You gave me an ultimatum: if I made you king, you would resign from Warden duties. You were a child and a coward and I allowed it, and I was foolish for doing so. You aren't hardened enough to be a ruler, Alistair. You chose the easy way out, only picking one instead handling both duties. I didn't have that pretty little choice." She glared at him, eyes unmoving. Alistair felt pinned in place, like he just got a tongue lashing from a Chantry mother.  
  
Anders snorted. "I don't think he has anything else to say to you, Commander. We should probably leave."  
  
Aren straightened herself. "I agree. If you truly need me, Alistair, you'll find me."  
  
" _How?_ " Alistair sputtered, watching as she walked past him in disbelief. "I couldn't track you down before."  
  
"Because," she said, pausing in the doorway to look back at him over her shoulder, "you would truly search for me instead of sending your little messenger boys. The Alistair I knew, the friend I'd had, would have looked for me." With that, she turned on her heel and followed Anders out of the Keep.  
  
Anders hastened his pace so he could keep up with her. She was faster than she looked. "I was not expecting to see you here, Commander," he stated, desperate to get rid of the remaining tension in her shoulders.   
  
"I wasn't expecting to have to come here after finding Zevran again," she sighed, following Anders down the stairway. "But nothing ever goes as planned, does it?"  
  
"I guess not."  
  
Aren studied her surroundings as they walked. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To a bar in Lowtown. It's horrible and smells worse than a wet mabari, but it's where we all meet. Speaking of which, where's Butler? I almost miss his slobber."  
  
Aren laughed. "He's around here somewhere. He'll find me when he wants to."  
  
The two made small talk about their lives in the years since they had last met until they reached the haunt, where Aren was assaulted by the stench of bad ale and an extremely excited mabari.  
  
"Butler!" she exclaimed, scratching his neck as his front paws were on her shoulders. The giant dog whined happily, licking his mistress's cheek. "I knew you'd find me, now get down so I can move." He barked, obliging happily and following her and Anders up the stairs to a private room. The door opened after he knocked three times.  
  
"Anders! Terrific, I can get money from you as well now!" a woman's voice called out as they entered. Aren thought she recognized her as the dark-skinned woman looked at her like she was putting a puzzle together. "Ohhh, you're the Warden I met in Ferelden!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers in realization. "The one that punched me!"  
  
The beardless dwarf across from her barked out laughter. "The Hero of Ferelden punched our dear pirate? This is a story I have to hear."  
  
Isabela grinned as Aren sat down next to Eldrun and the elf he was with earlier, Butler laying down at her feet. "Oh, I hit on her man, Zevran. She punched me good, nearly knocked a damn tooth out."  
  
Confusion crossed the expression of the elven woman sitting next to Isabela, the only one with proper vallaslin. "Isn't that the Antivan we heard about earlier?" Aren's gaze shot straight over to her.  
  
"Merrill-" Isabela started, but was cut off by the Warden.  
  
"You," Aren commanded, looking the other elf girl in the eye, "what are you talking about? Heard about? Who contacted you?"  
  
Merrill fidgeted under the scrutiny. "I was with Hawke getting supplies when an Antivan caught our attention. He said he and his men were from the Crows and that they were hunting for a murderer."  
  
Aren's blood boiled. She should have expected this. "Where were they? Did they say where he was?"  
  
Anders put his hand on her shoulder; she was annoyed with herself for not noticing him there before as she shrugged his hand off. "Commander, I'm not about to let you rush an entire Crow's nest alone." She glared at him, ears tilting back ever so slightly. "You know that that doesn't scare me, Velanna's still scarier than you."  
  
Eldrun slammed his hands down on the table, causing Merrill to squeak in surprise and Isabela to swear as her drink sloshed. "Will everyone wait a Maker-damned minute and explain what's going on?" he said, annoyance evident in his voice. "Andraste's knickers. Varric needs to finish gathering more information before we do anything. They don't plan on attacking him. They asked me to find him for them." He looked at Aren, annoyance on his face. "Now explain exactly why you're here."  
  
She didn't back down from the look he was giving her. "I am here to find my husband before someone else does. That 'someone else' happens to be the Antivan Crows and they're a particularly nasty bunch who have tried to kill me a collective three times. I have every idea of what they will do to Zevran if they get their hands on him, and I have not sacrificed so much to let your righteous little arse get in my way."  
  
The room fell quiet before Isabela spoke up, eyebrows raised. " _Husband?_  He actually got married?"  
  
Aren shrugged. "More or less."  
  
Varric sighed running his hand down his face. "Hawke, why is nothing ever easy for us?"  
  
"I don't know, Varric," the auburn-haired man sighed, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. "Maybe because we willingly chase down high dragons and Arishoks?"  
  
"It could be worse," Aren suggested. "You could have to kill an Archdemon."  
  
Eldrun winced. "I...would never want that."  
  
"You don't," she said dryly. "It is a pain you can never imagine."  
  
He looked shocked. "But...I thought Loghain killed-"  
  
"No. He did not. He was killed moments before delivering the final blow. I drove the sword through that monster's skull. You cannot imagine the pain of an Old God trying to kill you from your very core."  
  
Silence descended on the room once again until Varric ordered everyone out and to get ready to find Zevran in the morning, blast finding more information.


	5. Varterrals and Hiding Spots

Dawn bloomed over the skyline of the city as Aren sat on a balcony railing of the Chantry. While she did not like the building itself, it was a simple climb - a life living in a tower and having a very skilled rogue as a lover had not left her without skills - and had an excellent vantage point over Kirkwall.  
  
Ever since joining the Wardens, it had become a ritual for her to rise just before the sun and watch it creep over the horizon. To her, it was proof she had made it another day, that they were on the road to success. It was something that proved there was still beauty in the world while darkness threatened to clamp its jaws down on it all.  
  
She sighed, summoning a small flare of fire into her left palm and letting it swirl about her forearm. She was getting more worried about Zevran by the minute and did not want to wait to go find him. However, Anders had a point: if she went alone, she would be the perfect target for the Crows. They could ambush her if they were a large enough cell - which the dwarf Varric seemed to believe they are - and could use her to lure Zevran out to kill him.  
  
Snuffing the fire in her hand out, she swiveled and landed on the balcony pad, studying the rising sun for another moment before opening the stained glass window she sneaked through and entered the Chantry again. Thankfully, no one was in the building save the few sisters who were just stirring from the embrace of sleep. Aren crept around them until she exited the building, and was surprised to see the darker elf that was with the Champion yesterday, not that she let it show.  
  
"You are...the Warden Commander, yes?" he said, voice quiet. She gathered attracting attention was not a pleasant experience for him, either.  
  
"Yes. I never caught your name, yesterday," Aren answered, voice equally quiet. She straightened her back, stretching, and stepped to his side, the other elf turning around and keeping pace with her to talk. "I would like to be away from the Chantry before the templars come knocking, however."  
  
He nodded. "I am Fenris." He paced her easily, using his longer stride to catch up with her. "Despite your status, the templars are still willing to trouble you?"  
  
She let out a small, sarcastic snort. "When I'm fighting them, yes. There are few foolish enough to take me on alone. I'm nearly equal with a blade as I am with my magic, and the ones that don't recognize me generally underestimate me. But I'd still rather be careful and not be outnumbered in the open."  
  
Fenris nodded in understanding. "This Crow you are looking for. What has he done to anger the others?"  
  
Hatred simmered in Aren's eyes when the Crows were mentioned, gritting her teeth in annoyance. "He failed to kill me, and we fit together. We slaughtered our way to the top of their ranks: the master assassin and his mage. No one dared touch us. I was called to Amaranthine and he disappeared two weeks before I left. I've been tracking him since the city burned and I found his trail here."  
  
Fenris hummed. "Had the templars come for Hawke, I...," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...there would be nothing left of the Kirkwall order."  
  
"It is always best to protect what is yours," Aren said. She was beginning to like the prickly elf. "Where are we headed?"  
  
"To the Dalish camp to find your Crow."  
  
\- - - - - - - -  
  
Aren followed closely behind Varric, Anders, Fenris, and Eldrun. The elf girl Aren had met last night had refused to come - something about a falling-out with her clan - so Anders begrudgingly accompanied them on the trek.  
  
As they approached, the guards greeted Eldrun stiffly as usual, but froze when they noticed Aren. The archer called out to the Keeper before dropping to one knee and bowing. Aren groaned internally; she disliked this kind of attention. The humans she was with watched with interest and some confusion.   
  
"Would someone care to explain what's going on?" Eldrun asked, slightly uneasy but amused, looking between Aren and the guards. Varric looked a little fascinated by the turn of events. Anders just sighed.  
  
"Ah, our Hero of Ferelden has returned, I see," came a wizened voice. Keeper Marethari stepped between the two guards, smiling at the younger mage. Aren knelt to her in respect. "Rise, child, I do not hold you to our customs."  
  
"I share your blood," Aren replied, still kneeling, "There is no reason why I should not be held to them."  
  
Marethari smiled. "Rise, child, do not stay on your knees. You have earned the right to stand tall." At that, Aren rose, as did the two guards. "Welcome, Champion. I assume you are here about the Crow that passed through?"  
  
"Yes," Eldrun said, curiosity coloring his voice although the confusion was gone. "We were contacted by another cell and asked to apprehend him."  
  
The older mage chuckled. "I wish you luck. It is no easy task you set out for."  
  
\- - - - - - - -  
  
Anders swore. If there was one thing he really,  _really_  hated about caves it was the waves of spiders they always seemed to run into. No matter what happened, he would always be covered head-to-toe in spider guts by the end of the battle. This is why he hated fighting at the Commander's side: although she was a force of nature in battle, an element of her own creation, she liked to inflict toxin damage just a little too much and it caused her targets to explode. He was convinced she picked ones he was fighting because it amused her.  
  
Edlrun wiped the last of the blood out of his eyes and sighed. "No matter where we go, there are always spiders. And who used that walking bomb spell? Maker, that was a nasty piece of work."  
  
Aren grinned. "Sorry about that. Things around me tend to explode." She didn't feel apologetic in the least, but she figured saying it would count for something, at least.  
  
Anders snorted. "Only because you make them explode. Or make a crazy, brain-addled dwarf do it for you."  
  
"That was  _one time_!" she defended, settling her staff back onto her back, the blue crystal atop it towering over her. "And we needed him to blast it to the void to seal the tunnel."  
  
"Whatever you say, Commander," he said, rolling his eyes. "Either way you terrified Sigrun. She thought the whole place was going to collapse."  
  
Eldrun gave them the signal to move out, and Varric kept ahead to disarm any traps, of which there were several, to no one's surprise. Aren moved independently from the rest of the group, practically dancing through the traps without setting them off and disappearing into crevices and through small tunnels, searching for Zevran. Despite being a battle mage, she had more grace than most rogues he knew, Eldrun thought. Her size allowed her to weave through nearly anything without getting caught, and she was light enough not to set off most of the trap triggers - something he was starting to suspect her Crow counted on.     
  
"Is she always this sneaky?" he asked Anders as they descended a flight of stairs into an open room. Another  _ting_ sounded as Varric disarmed yet another claw trap.  
  
Anders shrugged. "It depends, really. Sometimes she charges in like a bronto in rock armor, sometimes it's like she slips around you like air to get you when you're weak. As it is, she's spectacularly angry, I'm surprised she hasn't made it start raining fireballs yet."  
  
A deep rumble shook the cavern, and Fenris grabbed hold of Eldrun as he nearly slipped down the stairs. Varric swore and took off toward the center, Anders right on his heels as the other two steadied themselves.  
  
"Watch yourself, Hawke," Fenris chastised, grip tightening for a moment before releasing the Champion.   
  
Eldrun grinned. "Why do that when I have a handsome elf to do that for me?" He laughed at the soft glare he received and they followed the others out into the middle to see an enraged mage surrounded by rock debris from the ceiling, a small but thick trail of blood coming from her forearm.   
  
Aren had been hit by the leg of a varterral, had a broken arm, and was even more pissed off. Anders could nearly feel her fury, but knew better than to go near her. Eldrun and Fenris began to head to her side when he grabbed Fenris's arm and yanked him backwards. Eldrun turned as Fenris snarled and was immediately at his side. "Anders, what are you doing?"  
  
"Don't go near her," Anders warned, his voice a harsh whisper. "She is not a mage you want to be around when she's angry. And Fenris, stay as far away as possible."  
  
"Why?" he demanded, annoyance evident in his voice at Anders attempting to give him an order. "She is but another mage, and I have fought alongside three for years."  
  
Anders sighed. This wasn't going to go over well. "She's not the type of mage you are used to fighting with. Being a Warden...has given her powers you wouldn't expect, and I don't know how your markings will react if she does what I think she's going to do."  
  
As Anders spoke, Aren drew a small dagger out from her side and drew a thin line of blood on her broken arm. Fenris snarled in disgust as Eldrun blinked, shocked. "She's a blood mage!?" Eldrun said, surprise showing.   
  
"Not exactly," Anders explained. Great, this _wasn't_ going over well. "What she does is use the taint on her opponent. I've only seen her use it a handful of times, and it's something I wanted to see her doing again. Watching her use her own taint to warp that of a broodmother's is...disgusting is the only word I can think of."   
  
They watched as Aren summoned a wave of red-tinted magic, using it to warp the blood of the varterral. The creature screamed in agony as the taint forced its way into it, and she gave the signal for the rest of the team to attack. Anders ran forward, healing Aren as best he could while still having time to hurl a rock fist at the varterral. Eldrun set about to using as many ice spells as he could to freeze it, Varric and Fenris took to as many outside melee attacks as they could.  
  
Aren fell onto her knees, weak from wielding the taint. She would never admit it, but it could kill her if she relied on it too much. She knew she let her temper get the best of her a few moments ago, and the panic roaring in the back of her mind that this varterral could have killed Zevran had her enraged against it. As she was trying to stand again, she felt arms wrap around her waist and under her knees, easily lifting her away from the earth beneath her. She readied her dagger to strike when she felt soft pressure against her temple, the warm touch calming her. She looked wide-eyed up at Zevran, who smiled at her and slipped into the shadows as the others took the varterral down, Eldrun and Varric counting how many hits they could each get in.   
  
"I should stab you for just leaving like that, you know," she snapped, slipping the dagger back into its sheath. He slid down against the wall and held her against him, nuzzling into her hair and humming in response. "That's not getting you out of trouble."  
  
"Hmm," he responded. She knew he was smiling even though she could not see him, making her scowl harder at him. "You cause more trouble in a few minutes than I could in a day, my dear. You are an unmatched force. Also, you lack any finesse or subtlety."  
  
Aren snorted and the pair braced themselves as the ground shook, telling of the varterral's demise. "We should head back out."  
  
"You are in no shape to walk," Zevran noted.  
  
"I've had worse."  
  
"If by worse you mean fighting an Archdemon, yes," he said dryly, "and I carried you off the battlefield even then. If you think I will do anything but the same now, you are mistaken."   
  
Aren sighed, resigning herself to it as Zevran slowly stood with her never shifting in his arms. The two came into light as Eldrun and Varric were looking through the remains of the varterral, bickering about which one of them actually killed it. Fenris was searching the room, most likely to find where Zevran was hiding, and Anders was nearly in a state of panic because of Aren's disappearance. His line of vision finally fell on Aren and Zevran and relief flooded his expression.  
  
"Commander!" he cried out, running over to where the two were standing. Eldrun stood and turned around to watch them, as did Fenris. Varric was too occupied with trying to open a chest he just noticed to pay attention to them at that moment. "Maker, what did you do this time?"  
  
Zevran knelt and set her down on the ground, but remained crouched behind her as she leaned on his chest, his hand warm against her waist. Anders knelt in front of her and set to work on healing her arm. "It pissed me off, what did you expect?"   
  
"Commander, you're a mage, you don't have the strength of a bronto to back you up, how many times have I had to tell you this!?" he sighed, slivers of blue healing magic swimming over Aren's broken arm, knitting her skin back together over healed bone. "You did this in Amaranthine, and that blighted ogre nearly killed you!"  
  
A look of alarm crossed Zevran's face for an instant. "You took on an ogre  _alone_?" he said. He shook his head. "You will be the death of me, truly."  
  
Her bone set, Aren shook her arm about as Anders leaned back on his heels. "Thank you, Anders. Zevran, you are aware of the other Crows here, yes?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. But they are too incompetent to catch me, as you have seen."  
  
Eldrun and Fenris had now wandered over, Varric still swearing at the chest, and the mage knelt down on one knee across Anders, a wary expression on his face. Fenris stood behind him, arms crossed and glowering down at Aren. "Commander, -"  
  
"Andraste's tits, I have a name," she said, exasperated. "I expect 'Commander' from the Wardens, but from the rest of you? I have a name. Use it."  
  
Eldrun chuckled nervously, rubbing his chin. "Uh, alright, Aren. That...trick you did. Was that not blood magic?"  
  
"Of course it was," Fenris spat from behind him. "No mage in power has gone without using it. She is the same as the abomin-"  
  
Before he could finish his sentence, Zevran had a knife up to his throat. "Put her in the ranks of those who use demons, and you are dead," he said, blade pressed on the jugular vein, his voice calm and even, although his eyes spoke volumes in cold, controlled anger. "She is more than you could ever be, and she is a better person than you could become."  
  
Anders had caught Aren's arm after Zevran had moved so quickly and they watched for the few tense seconds following his outburst. Eldrun was on his feet with a fist of force magic in his hand, ready to blast Zevran to pieces.  
  
"Get away from Fenris," he snarled, anger lacing his voice. " _Now_."  
  
"Stand down!" Aren ordered, voice booming. _It's a good thing I'm used to yelling at Oghren_ , she thought. "Zevran, step away. Champion, stand down." Zevran took a step back but did not lower his blade. Eldrun snuffed the magic he held in his hand but did not change his stance. "I said,  _stand down_." Zevran walked backwards until he was behind Aren, and Eldrun came up to Fenris's side. "Will you all stop with this? We have bigger problems to deal with than this." Maker's breath, did she have to babysit everyone she accompanied these days?  
  
"You are a blood mage," Fenris spat. "How do we know you are not possessed?"  
  
"I'm clean," Aren groaned. "I use the taint in my blood. I have made no pact with any demon and I have slaughtered every demon that has tried to tempt me. Ask Anders or Zevran, they have both seen it many times." The two men nodded.  
  
"I had fallen under a sloth demon," Zevran offered as explanation, blade still gripped tight. "She was the only one the demon could not fool. She rescued myself, your dear king Alistair, and our friend Wynne from it's clutches. It fooled all of us save her. I do not doubt her strength against demons." He offered his arm out to Aren and she took it, using the leverage to stand. Anders rose after her.  
  
Eldrun nodded. "I understand that, but why would you even use that? If nothing else, it seems to drain your energy."  
  
She shrugged. "At first, I did not know what the consequences were. Now...I fear it no longer. My time is running out as it is."  
  
Zevran's face hardened and Anders went pale. "Commander, what?" he stammered, stepping foward and taking her arm. "You - no!"  
  
She nodded. "I am within nine years of my Calling, if I'm guessing right. I don't have much time left, and I have no fear of using my powers to full capacity."  
  
"The Calling?" Eldrun said, brow furrowed in concern.  
  
"The time will come for every Warden," Aren explained, crossing her arms and leaning on her left hip. "The nightmares come more frequently, more intensely. You can feel the horde in your bones, in your soul. They claw at you. Eventually, it will drive you to suicide or you go the traditional route, and take out as many darkspawn as you can before you die in the Deep Roads."  
  
Eldrun paled, and Fenris touched his shoulder lightly, concern in his eyes as he watched the mage. "Carver..."  
  
"...is several years away from that, likely even close to two or three decades," Aren said softly. "I've met him. Last I saw him he was safe. I have been a Warden for nearly 12 years, but I knew I did not have as long as most. The taint is harshest on mages and those initiated during a Blight."  
  
"They hand you a shiny cup and say welcome to the club, but they don't tell you what prizes you get till you're already there," Anders deadpanned.   
  
Gravity had settled in on the discussion, but it was broken when Varric walked over to them. "So. Off to kill Crows next?"  
  
Zevran nodded. "Best we strike soon," Aren added. "Let's go make them sing." 


	6. A Murder of Crows

They regrouped at the base of Sundermount, taking some time to rest from the varterral fight as Anders tried to convince a few of the clan to part with some lyrium potions. Varric was obsessively checking all of Bianca's gears, mumbling to himself about getting new touch-up equipment as Eldrun and Fenris quietly watched the group of Dalish that had gathered around the Warden and the Crow.  
  
Aren was at the center of the circle of, all listening raptly to her weave the tale of the Battle of Amaranthine, pride on several of their faces. Zevran kept a polite appearance, but he was obviously unwilling to let his lover out of arm's reach. What Eldrun didn't understand is why this clan seemed to respect her so much; clearly they were more comfortable because she was a fellow elf, but most Dalish shunned the city elves, or at least feared magic if Merrill was any example.  
  
He looked up as a shadow crossed his line of vision before Anders slumped on the rock Eldrun and Fenris sat on, closing his eyes as the lyrium potion took effect, two others in his jacket pocket. Keeper Marethari had come up behind him, smiling softly as she gazed at Aren and Zevran.   
  
"You're curious," the older woman stated. Eldrun gave a small smile up at her, wondering how she guess that so easily. "Her mother was part of our clan some time ago. She is her mother's daughter, and much like Fenryiel, we do not abandon our own."  
  
"I thought most of the clan was nervous around mages, though?" he asked. Anders snorted. Eldrun frowned, brow furrowing. "What?"  
  
"You never met the cactus that was Velanna," he sighed. "She was a Dalish First we met in Amaranthine, the Commander was the only one who could keep her in check. She was angry at every little thing, hated everyone except the Commander, sharing Dalish blood and both mages. She liked Howe for some reason, though. Eventually. Short version, from what I know, a lot of Dalish are afraid that something will happen to them that's related to the Blight, not so much mages themselves. Or they're just afraid of human mages."  
  
"You're not far from the truth, da'len," Marethari agreed. "Hawke, you've only met myself and Merrill. We are not all bad. We have different ways of learning our magic than what your Circle teaches, and some do get lost along the way. Dalish mages are very, very rare; there is a reason we are the Keepers of our clans. It was very unusual to have Aren and Merrill born the same generation, even if Aren did not grow up with us."  
  
Fenris stood, catching the attention of the others, and they followed his line of vision to Aren, who had stood as well. However, the Dalish warriors that had been listening to the story had kneeled around her, a collective ' _dareth shiral'_ granted to her. She visibly swallowed, falling to one knee and giving the phrase back to them. She stood, and they rose with her. Zevran placed his hand at the small of her back, and they exited the circle towards Hawke and the group as a few touched her shoulder in passing.   
  
Aren rolled her shoulders, relaxed at last, and looked at the auburn-haired mage who towered over her. "Are you all ready?" He nodded in response. "Good," she said, grabbing Anders by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "Up you lazy nug, you're gonna be riding that lyrium burn for at least 10 minutes." He grunted, but didn't protest as they began the route to the Wounded Coast.

\- - - - - - - -

They found a small cliff about a quarter of a mile away from where smoke was rising behind a tent, giving away the Crow camp easily. Aren was crouched near the ledge, surveying it and deciding that the organization was still largely run by nugs if they gave themselves away so readily. Or, it could be a trap.  
  
It was probably a trap.  
  
Zevran appeared at her side once again as she rose. "Do you think they know I'm still alive? Or that you're here, my dear Warden?" he asked, settling his hand on the back of her neck. She leaned into it with a sigh as he ran a thumb along her spine and hummed.   
  
"They're very obvious. I'm a little concerned it's a trap," she replied. "I thought about just casting a firestorm, but that takes the fun out of it for the rest of you."  
  
He grinned, leaning over to kiss her temple. "Ever so considerate, mi amor. Always willing to give victims as gifts."  
  
She snorted. "Only if they want to kill us." She linked her arm with his at the elbow, heading over to where Eldrun and Varric were organizing the attack; Fenris and Anders were doing their best to ignore the other as they both warmed up before taking on the Crows. "What's our plan?" she asked.  
  
Eldrun looked at her as she stopped to his left. "Fenris and I are going to take point. If you and Zevran wanted to make a run for it, you have the opportunity, or you could flank them from the cliffs. Any other ideas?"  
  
Aren shook her head. "No, your plan sounds good. It's always fun blowing up the people who want me dead."  
  
"Well Spitefire, you seem to have a habit of that," Varric laughed. "Unless that offends your delicate elven sensibilities."  
  
Aren smiled at him, laughing. "I traveled with a drunken dwarf who had never met a shower who's called me far worse in his fits." Anders groaned at the mention of constantly drunk dwarven Warden. "Believe me, I am not offended."  
  
"Can we not talk about Oghren?" Anders pleaded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I couldn't get the smell out of my clothes for months that night he got kicked out of Amaranthine's tavern."  
  
"That was only because you looked like a teddy bear with all that scruff, da'len," Aren smirked. Anders scowled at her in return. "What? He did like you, Sparklefingers."  
  
"Can we get to this fight, please?" Fenris said, voice snapping at the end. Eldrun looked at him, concerned. "I'm fine, Hawke, I would simply like to finish this."  
  
Aren shrugged. "Fine with me. Zevran and I will take the cliff, we'll take them by surprise when you need us to."  
  
And so began the assault, Eldrun at the front of the foursome, Fenris at his side and Varric and Anders at the rear. The man who caught their attention a few days ago, Nuncio, if Eldrun remembered correctly, saw their approach and signaled his men to gather around them.   
  
He approached with a scowl. "Well? Where is the murderer I hired you to capture?"  
  
Eldrun shrugged. "He wasn't there. We got caught up in a fight with a varterral, it seems likely that it killed him."  
  
The Antivan glared at him in complete disbelief. "He traveled with the Warden, that sack of shit! There is no way a varterral maldito killed that bastard."  
  
Eldrun flinched back when a knife lodged itself in Nuncio's shoulder, missing some major vital points by nigh an inch. He howled, clutching at his shoulder and pivoting to where Zevran stood, expression smug. "Hello, Nuncio. What have you been saying about me this time, hm? That I killed your wife and children? Started a slavery ring?"  
  
Nuncio snarled. "I will  _kill you_ , you culo insufrible!"  
  
Zevran smiled. "My friend, I welcome you to try." He opened his arms, and fireballs began to pour from the sky, several Crows from the cell screaming as they caught fire, unable to dodge it or snuff the flames out. Fenris took off into the tightest groups, sword swinging, as Varric picked off stragglers attempting to run. Eldrun froze who he could aim at while keeping off the friendly fire from Aren's magic, and Anders laid down glyphs to slow down the Crows that crossed into them.   
  
Aren slid down the hillside and came to stand beside Zevran, looking almost disinterested at the battle. "Wasn't this supposed to be a fight, Nuncio? Your last cell failed as well."  
  
Zevran's eyebrow rose. "He was in charge of the attempt on your life in Amaranthine?" She nodded. "By all means, let me take him down in your honor, cara mia." She inclined her head towards the opposing rogue in permission.   
  
Fire glinted in Zevran's eyes as more than a reflection of the flames covering the other Crows as he drew twin blades, both coated in a sheen of liquid poison as he met Nuncio's stance. They circled each other, ignoring the remnants of the losing cell crying out for mercy. Neither Eldrun nor Aren could tell who struck first, but she remained taut as a bowstring as they traded blow for blow equally, metallic _tings_ ringing out as the blades met each other. She wanted to intervene, but she was nowhere near the level of duelism that the Crows fought with. This was a match to the death, and she prayed to whatever spirit or god that was listening that Zevran would soon win.  
  
Her hopes proved true as he swept Nuncio's feet out from underneath him, not wasting a second of driving his dagger through the other Crow's throat. Blood spurt out of his mouth as he tried to curse at Zevran one final time, grip tight on the assassin's wrist before it fell to the ground, life in the body gone. Zevran pulled his blade back and wiped it on the dead Crow's armor before sheathing it and returning to Aren's side.  
  
Eldrun was fussing over a large gash Fenris had gotten in the fight, healing it as much as the warrior would allow in public, and Varric was looting the chest by Nuncio's tent. Anders looked exhausted from using his abilities so quickly after downing a lyrium potion, and Aren caught his arm to steady him as they headed to where Fenris and the Champion were seated.  
  
"So that was a Crow cell," Eldrun said happily, the blue glow of healing magic fading from his hands. "They throw the best welcome parties I've ever seen, and I've been to Chauteau Haine!" He gasped, eyes opening in mock astonishment. "Oh wait, they tried to kill me there, too."  
  
Aren smiled, no humor in her flat grin. "Believe me, if I had a sovereign for every time someone tried to kill me, I'd be able to buy anything in Orlais. You get used to it after a while."  
  
Fenris finally met Aren's eyes, minutely nodding to her after a moment. As good an apology she was going to get for him accusing her of being an abomination, she supposed. "Where are you travelling to next?" he questioned, clearing his throat. "Should you not return to your post?"  
  
Aren shrugged. "I left Howe and Velanna in charge. The Keep should be fine for quite a while, they're both capable. And Velanna's terrifying on a good day. I think I'd like to stay around here for a while, your city is...uneasy. I do not like it."  
  
Anders stood next to her, grim-faced. "The templars are out of control here, Commander," he offered. "If you ever thought it was bad in Ferelden..." He shook his head. "This is them taking Greagoir's order of the Rite of Annulment and executing it tenfold."  
  
Eldrun sighed, standing up. "Meredith has gone a bit power-crazy, and I can't say I'm sure what to do about it. She and Orsino are trying to pit me against the other, it's really quite annoying."  
  
"Meredith has her reasons, and they are not unjustified," Fenris added, gaining a deeper scowl from Anders and a raised eyebrow from Aren. "However, she is...extreme. I do not agree with her actions, but I understand her cause. Orsino is no better. I do not trust him."  
  
"Neither do I, and I've only met the man once," Aren sighed, running her hand through her hair, although it was a hopeless mess of waves by now. As Varric rejoined the group with the raided goods, she added, "I think we should regroup at the Hanged Man. I suppose it's secure enough of a place."  
  
"No," Eldrun added quickly. "It's not. I have enough room at my home, if you are willing to use a small mattress in the library."  
  
Aren laughed. "You realize I've literally slept on mud and in the Deep Roads during the Blight, correct? If I have cover over my head I'm pleased."  
  
"We accept your offer, dear Champion," Zevran smiled, curling an arm around Aren's waist and settling his hand on her hip. "I do believe we should leave before crows come to eat, however."  
  
"I hope you're talking about the birds," Varric muttered. "They scratched Bianca."  
  
Zevran smiled wryly. "With the Crows? They could be anywhere.


	7. No Turning Back

Errands seemed to preoccupy the Champion's time for much of Aren's stay in Kirkwall. Meredith and Orsino were running him ragged, trying to convince him to sway from his carefully maintained neutrality. He was becoming haggard, and his companions grew more concerned as time went on.  
  
Then the was the matter of Anders. She had been watching him very carefully, seeing him become more and more withdrawn and sullen, resigned in a certain manner. And a resigned Anders was a dangerous one; she had not seen that look since he thought she would betray him to the templars in Amaranthine. She didn't trust it, and she certainly didn't trust whatever Justice had changed in him.  
  
Aren and Zevran had been in Kirkwall for roughly a month when a runner from the Gallows came to Hawke's estate late one night. Fenris had been tense all day, and it seemed to worsen when Hawke came back into the library with a slip of paper from Meredith simply stating  _'We need you at the Gallows. -M'_.  
  
"Hawke, I do not think we should answer this," Fenris stated, brow furrowed.  
  
The mage sighed, running his hand down his face and scratching at his scruff. "I have to, Fenris. I may not like it, but I won't leave Kirkwall to her. The people don't deserve that."  
  
Aren stood, taking her staff from the wall and settling it on her back. "We will come as well," she stated. Zevran downed the last of his wine and stretched as he stood, joints popping and chair scraping across the floor. "No," she said as Eldrun opened his mouth to argue, "this is not going to end well. You're going to need help."  
  
"Why do you think it will end badly?" Fenris snapped, voice terse. She didn't blame him; no one wanted the worst to come to pass.   
  
"Why else would Meredith send for you this late? Something's gone wrong, and if she believes it's bad, then it's likely even worse," she snapped back.   
  
"Well then," Zevran grinned, "shall we stand here and talk or march into the belly of the beast?"  
  
\- - - - - - - - - -

Kirkwall nights were cold, and this one was no different. Aren sorely wished she'd brought a longer pair of robes, but her fur shawl would have to do. Meredith and Orsino were in front of the Chantry, argument clearly underway, with a few templars and Circle mages surrounding them.  
  
"I  _will_  have the tower searched, top to bottom!" the knight-commander snap out, hand clenching on the hilt of her sword, as much in Orsino's face as he was in hers.   
  
"You have no right!" Orsino argued back, hands gesturing wildly in the argument, brow becoming more drawn with every word tossed between them. She heard Eldrun mumble something under his breath. She thought it sounded like something about how they almost argued like siblings.  
  
It was an argument about accusations of blood magic again, of course, one Meredith would never give up and one Orsino would always be defensive about. Aren doubted it would ever end. She stood back with Fenris and Zevran, and the brother Sebastian Vael who had joined them, as the Champion walked over to try and calm the argument down. She was certain the rest of his companions would be there in a few minutes if the Starkhaven prince was already there; word traveled fast in Kirkwall, after all.  
  
Meredith grew more incensed the more Eldrun tried to play peacemaker, and Orsino seemed to grow resigned and more determined; dangerous combinations on both sides. There was no way this could end well, they said, and she agreed with them both on that statement. Orsino moved towards the Chantry, saying how the Grand Cleric could settle this, angering Meredith even more as she pulled him back.  
  
"The Grand Cleric cannot help you!" Aren's neck cracked as she stared at Anders, out of breath from running to the scene. Dread pooled in her stomach as she felt Fenris tense beside her. Isabela and Merrill were not far behind Anders, and she assumed Varric would be there momentarily as well.  
  
Meredith spun on him, blue eyes wild with anger. "Explain yourself, mage."

"I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals, while those who would lead us bow to their templar jailers," he snarled back, drawn up to his full height.  
  
"How dare you sp-" Orsino started, interrupted by Anders slamming the butt of his staff on the ground.  
  
"The Circle has failed us, Orsino! Even  _you_  should be able to see that!" Blue cracks danced along Anders's skin, Justice's way of showing how badly he was fighting to maintain control.  
  
Aren sucked a breath in. ' _No._   _Anders_ ,  ** _no_** ,' she thought.  
  
"The time has come to act," Anders said, voice cracking with Justice's energy, dropping an octave. "There can be no half measures."  
  
Eldrun's face had gone pale, highlighted by the moonlight and panic. "Anders," he pleaded, voice quiet and reaching out towards his friend, "what have you done?"  
  
Anders would not meet his eyes. "There can be no turning back."  
  
A deep rumble shook the ground, drawing all eyes toward the Chantry. Anders kept his gaze firmly on the ground, while the rest of the the arguing parties stood as if they were rooted to the ground as red light filled the building, shooting through every window, every door, every crack in the walls, and causing it to explode and crumble, debris and ash flying across the city and those out at the late hour.   
  
The shock was interrupted by coughing and waving hands trying to clear the air as smoke surrounded them and embers fell on them, looks of shock and horror across all but one face.  
  
"Maker have mercy," Meredith uttered, voice a fraction of what it was when she was arguing with Orsino. Aren almost swore it shook.   
  
"There can be no peace," Anders said, voice harsh in the aftermath as he finally looked up at Eldrun, who was still staring at his friend in complete shock.  
  
"Elthina, no!" Sebastian cried, the prince falling to his knees, voice wrecked with grief. "Maker, no! She was Your most faithful, Your most beloved..." His hands curled into fists on the ground as he hung his head. "Maybe she wasn't there, maybe she made it..." Aren watched him carefully as he steeled himself, standing to bless the remains of the Chantry. Once a brother, always a brother, she supposed.  
  
Meredith turned to steel. "The Grand Cleric has been killed by magic, the Chantry destroyed," she spat, voice pure venom as the faced the Champion's friends and Orsino. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment -" Aren's breath halted as the group seemed to shift to cover its mages - "Every mage in the Circle is to be executed, immediately!"  
  
Orsino snapped. "The Circle didn't even do this! Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness!"  
  
"And I demand you stand with us!" the Knight-Commander ordered, turning to the Champion as well. "Even you see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!"  
  
"Why are we debating the Rite of Annulment when the monster who did this is right here?" Sebastian said, keeping his eyes on the remains of the Chantry but speaking directly to Eldrun, voice biting with anger. "I swear to you, I will kill him!"  
  
Anders turned to Eldrun again. "It can't be stopped now," he said, voice oddly calm, "You have to choose."  
  
The shocked look had not left the Champion's face, now joined by hurt, and Aren pitied him. This was not a situation anyone wanted to be in, and she felt Fenris bristle beside her. "I- I could have  _stopped_  you," Eldrun uttered, his voice hollow.  
  
"No," Anders shook his head, "you couldn't have. This had to happen."  
  
"Do you - do you realize what you've started here!?"  
  
"I do. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier." Aren wasn't convinced he was sorry at all, and would not feel bad wagering much of the group felt the same way. "The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see it for what it truly is."  
  
Aren's temper flared, magic sparking around her as she stalked forward to stare Anders down face to face. "The world needs to see!? Do you not remember Kinloch Hold? Do you not remember the work I have poured into Ferelden's Circle? To make mages accepted across the country?  **Do you realize what you have done**?" Anders's expression remained unchanged, but he wanted to step back from her, and she knew it. It spurred her anger further. "You destroyed a Chantry, Anders. You killed innocent people.  _What have you done_?"  
  
"Commander, Hawke - you have to realize this!" he pleaded, looking between both of them. Good, he was breaking under her furious stare and Hawke's hurt one. "There can be no compromise!"  
  
"You fool!" Orsino cried, hands shaking as he looked away from the wreckage. "You have doomed us all!"  
  
"No," Anders said, "we were already doomed."  
  
"No, Anders," Eldrun growled, fury finally bleeding into his body language and his voice. "You have killed innocents; their blood is on **your**  hands!"  
  
"The people will demand blood," Meredith stated, eyes cold. The grip on her sword had only tightened. "I will not stop that."  
  
A pause. No one dared breathe as the Champion and Knight-Commander stared each other down.  
  
"I will not let her harm you," he finally said, shifting to stand in front of the Circle mages and his friends, and the relief was palpable. Aren did the same, drawing her staff as the templars gripped their swords.  
  
"Hawke, you would defend these mages?" Fenris asked incredulously. "After all they have done to you?"  
  
"I must maintain order, Hawke," Aveline stated, voice full of regret. "Even if it means standing against you."  
  
"Think carefully, Champion," Meredith warned. "Stand with them and you will share their fate."  
  
Eldrun stood his ground, every inch the Champion of Kirkwall. "I'd rather have their fate than yours."  
  
Fenris's jaw twitched as he touched the favor on his wrist. "Hawke, this is a mistake, but I will not abandon you, you fool."   
  
Aveline nodded in agreement. "Nor will I, even if I don't agree with you." The rest of the group murmured along the same lines, with Isabela's added exasperated mutterings of what she'd gotten herself into this time.  
  
Meredith's eyes turned colder, if it were possible. "You are a fool, Champion." She raised her hand to the templars behind her, closing into a fist quickly. "Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the Order!"  
  
Orsino moved at the same time, "Go! Run to the Gallows before it's too late!" The apprentices took off as the templars charged them, staves and swords meeting in a desperate bid to give them time to flee.  
  
The fight did not last long; between Fenris and Aveline, and the rest of the Champion's friends along with a Warden-Commander and an Antivan Crow, the templars were easily taken down.  
  
But one problem remained, thanks to Sebastian's murderous gaze - Anders.  
  
The blonde mage was sitting on a crate, blood smeared down his cheek from the fight, but it seemed like all the fight had left him. He'd given up, and something in Aren broke at that, despite her fury.  
  
Eldrun stormed over to him, gripping his staff tightly and face grim. "Anders, what in the void were you  _thinking_!?"  
  
"I had to do it, Hawke," he said, voice broken as he hung his head. "We cannot be at this stalemate forever."  
  
"You started a  _war_ , Anders! Kirkwall will fall because of this!"  
  
His head hung even lower, his voice even quieter. "I know."  
  
"Then why-"  
  
"Enough!" Sebastian barked, bow out and arrow knocked. "He killed Elthina. Execute him now, Hawke, or I will do it myself."  
  
"Sebastian, wait! There is no need for this!" Desperation was written all over the Champion's face as he stood between his friends, arms thrown out to try and placate Sebastian.   
  
"No, Hawke," the Starkhaven prince spat. "Would you still be waffling if I'd been in the Chantry? Would you be questioning this action then?"  
  
"Do it, Hawke," Anders said. "Kill me. Release Justice."  
  
Eldrun whirled around, eyes pinched at the corners in disbelief. "Anders, no, I'm not-"  
  
"If he lives, I will bring the fury of Starkhaven upon you, wherever you go, Hawke," Sebastian said darkly, eyes cold in fury.  
  
The tension could be cut with a knife, and Eldrun looked as if he was about to break under the sheer pressure of the situation. Zevran glanced at Aren out of the corner of his eye, and that was all the reassurance the elven mage needed. She stepped forward, drawing the attention of the surrounding company, save Anders and Sebastian.  
  
"As Warden-Commander of Ferelden," she stated, putting as much authority into her voice as she could, "I hereby place the Grey Warden Anders under arrest."  
  
"What!?" Sebastian squawked, his bow losing height as he stared at her. "You cannot be serious! This man deserves execution for what he did! You have no rig-"  
  
"I have every right," she said, leveling her gaze to the taller man. He froze. Check one for intimidating glare. "I am his Commander, and as my Warden, Anders is my problem."  
  
Anders stared at her in complete disbelief. "Commander, what -"  
  
Her gaze turned to him and the words died in his throat. "You are under arrest for the murder of innocents and treason against the state of Kirkwall and the Chantry. You will be held at Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine until a trial can be organized by the First Warden." She took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. "You will be forced to relinquish the spirit of Justice residing in you before this trial. If that process kills you, then so be it."  
  
He paused. "I accept your list for arrest."  
  
"I'm not giving you a choice to reject it."  
  
"He's - you're -  _he's going to live_?" Sebastian was quaking with anger, gaze flickering between the shocked Champion and the Warden-Commander. "I swear to you. You have brought Starkhaven's anger. Maker help you all." He spun and took off towards the docks; no one moved to follow him.  
  
"So," Isabela said, voice first to break the tension. "Seems we have a party to go to, right?"  
  
Varric snorted. "It's no party till people start bleeding."  
  
"Well then," Zevran grinned as the three mages rejoined the group, "let's go spill some blood."


	8. Of Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirkwall is burning, and only the last fight remains.

They decided to split up after Sebastian took off, cover more ground and rescue as many people as they could as they headed to the Gallows. Aveline led a group through the long route near the Alienage, taking Isabela, Merrill, and Varric with her, leaving Eldrun with Fenris, Anders, Aren, and Zevran. Butler and Dagger had found their mistress and master, and both mabaris calmed considerably at doing so.  
  
At this point, Aren figured they must have taken out dozens of shades; her mana was stretched thin and her head was pounding. They had done a sweep to check up with Aveline as she headed into Darktown, and agreed to meet at the Gallows when the opportunity arose. Eldrun was desperate to check on his uncle, but blocking their path was an ongoing fight with yet another group of shades and panicked mages, flashes of silver and blue armor stark against the dark creatures.  
  
The Warden-Commander blinked. Wait. Silver and blue armor?  
  
She swore, charging into the fray against Eldrun's call to hold on, lightning dancing on her fingertips as she worked it along her staff. She threw a group of bolts at the shade cornering one of her Wardens, her annoyance at finding them in Kirkwall written all over her face. "What in the hell are you all doing here!?"  
  
"Commander!" She groaned at the new voice; the presence of who it belonged to explained everything. The last shade fell to Eldrun's fire as the younger Hawke brother approached her, having the decency to look at least slightly contrite. "I'm sorry, the company deviated when we saw the Chantry go up, and I feared-"  
  
"You feared  _what_ , boy?" she snapped, staff clicking back into its holster on her back, her Warden-Commander tone out in force. "You were on a mission, one I gave your company personally, and you _deviated_?" She pinched the bridge of her nose as Eldrun came up to them, worry and relief at war on his face. Carver gave him a lopsided smile in return. Zevran just laughed at her. "Fine. Company, move out. Carver, stay with your brother if you so choose, but Maker help me, when we leave here you are on chamber pot duty for three weeks. And that includes Oghren's."  
  
Carver paled a little, but nodded, obviously grateful. Eldrun grinned and clapped him on the shoulder as Zevran laughed again. "Thank you, Commander. I was not expecting the leniency."  
  
Aren sighed. "I'm angry with you, do not doubt that, but I understand. I won't hold this against you. I'd be a hypocrite if I did." She refused to let her eyes wander to her Crow, but the meaning was there nonetheless.  
  
Carver confirmed Gamlen had run quite some time ago, much to Eldrun's relief, and the party left for the docks to go from the pot into the fire.   
  
\- - - - - - -  
  
The tension was as thick as Redcliffe castle had been the night before she took down the Archdemon. Zevran had not left her side since arriving at the Gallows, and even now he kept his shoulder touching hers as everyone said their goodbyes. Anders stood closer to them than the group he had known over the years, and she didn't blame him. He'd damned them all to the Knight-Commander's wrath, and he knew it.  
  
Carver was red as wine at some story Isabela was telling him, Varric and Merrill were making plans to visit some foreign country once this was all over. Fenris and Eldrun had not let go of each other once they'd stepped off the boat, and she couldn't blame them.  
  
Fenris had a grip on the Champion's hip, foreheads touching as Eldrun ran his hands along the elf's arms. "Hawke, I...may not get the chance to say this again." His voice was quiet; the mage wagered he wouldn't hear him if he were another inch away. "Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Eldrun." One steel-covered hand came up and rested on the Champion's jaw, green eyes rising to meet blue. "Promise me you won't die? I can't bear the thought of living without you."  
  
Eldrun tugged his lover even closer, as if by some force of magic he could make them one being. "I don't make that promise unless you do," he growled.  
  
"Nothing is going to keep me from you," he growled in return, voice dropping as he gripped the back of Eldrun's head, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Whistles went up from Isabela and Varric as Carver yelled for them to get a room, but neither man could bring themselves to care, not when they feared they may lose their world from the safety of their arms.  
  
Aren could relate, smiling at the two after they broke apart. Zevran shifted to pull her into his side, touching his nose to her temple. They'd said goodbye too many times; they'd simply see each other on the other side, in life or in death.   
  
\- - - - - - -  
  
It was over.  
  
Orsino, dead by his own fear and magic. Aren wanted to laugh at the irony. Knight-Commander Meredith fell to a craze from the red lyrium the Champion found in the Deep Roads, frozen into a statue at the center of the Gallows. The templars had backed away, unwilling to go near the several mages coming down from a battle high with surplus lyrium thrumming through them like a song.   
  
Except Cullen. He recognized her instantly - then again, her hair made her hard to miss - and sheathed his sword. "I will not let anyone here follow you."  
  
Eldrun blinked. "What?" His hands were shaking, pupils blown wide from the amount of lyrium potions he'd gone through to keep up with the fight. Fenris was at his side instantly, a hand on his back to steady the taller mage. He looked like hell; bruises mottled his face, a blow from a shield had split his lip at some point, and his armor was covered with small tears. She doubted she looked much better.  
  
Cullen spared a glance at the Champion, then refocused to Aren. "Surana. I will not make my offer twice. I will take control here, and I will not let them chase you. You have my word."

"And just how good is your word, Cullen?" she asked, the words out before she could think twice about them. She wasn't tempted to trust the man who had, last time they met, told her exactly what he'd thought about mages - about _her_ \- and she wasn't about to leave the surviving mages at his mercy, not without reassurance.

He sighed. "Because I owe you my life. You didn't kill me when you could have, it's because of you I've had a second chance. I will not let that go to waste, Sur - _Aren_."  
  
She blinked at her first name, then nodded, sheathing her staff and turning towards the massive gates that guard the Gallows, Zevran at her heels with his hand between her shoulder blades. Fenris looped Eldrun's arm over his shoulder, holding onto a wrist with the other around his waist to guide him out. Merrill supported a limping Isabela, and Carver and Varric walked alongside Aveline and her husband, who had joined in the middle of massive fight with what had remained of the Kirkwall guard, exhaustion written on everyone's face. Anders followed behind quietly.  
  
A ship was procured thanks to Isabela, and Aveline, Varric, and Carver set off to retrieve any supplies they could for the group. Anders was checking over and healing what injuries he could, such as Isabela's concussion and Zevran's broken arm, but Fenris would not let him near Eldrun.  
  
Aren sighed. "Move over, you stubborn elf," she ordered. He glared at her. "You won't let Anders help. I can at least heal a concussion and give him something for the lyrium haze. It'll take a few hours to fully wear off with the amount we went through." Fenris scowled at her, but moved to Eldrun's left, arm still wrapped around the mage's shoulder to support him. Aren rested her hands against the man's temples, channeling what remaining energy she had into healing magic. His eyes slid shut as soft blue enveloped her hands, the coolness of the magic bringing welcome relief.  
  
She stood back as he opened his eyes. "Thank you, Commander." She nodded, walking over to Zevran and leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, his head resting atop hers.   
  
It wasn't long before the rest of the party returned, mostly with Varric's notes and things from Hawke's estate - gold, his mother's jewelry, a few books and ledgers, and a note from Bodhan that he'd taken Sandal and Orana and left at the first sign of trouble, and that he hopes Eldrun and Fenris stay safe.  
  
They followed Isablea onto the ship, and she settled in as a natural captain. 

Except for Aveline and Donnic.

Eldrun halted on the ramp up and stared at the only two who hadn't moved. "Aveline? Donnic? Aren't you coming?"

The captain of the guard smiled at him sadly. "Someone's got to keep the templars from turning all of Kirkwall into the Gallows, right?"

He looked heartbroken as Carver came over to stand nearby. "Keep an out for Gamlen, will you?"

"You know I will, Carver. The Hawkes are family."

"Aveline, as far as we're concerned, you _are_ a Hawke."

She grinned. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

Eldrun gave her a watery smile. "Maker watch over you, Aveline. You better remember to write."

"You best do the same, Hawke."   
  
\- - - - - - -  
  
Merrill and Varric got off at a Free Marches city that wasn't Starkhaven - Aren couldn't remember the name of it as she bid them goodbye. She could tell Anders longed to depart, maybe to take a ship to Tevinter from there, but knew he stood no chance against the Hero of Ferelden's wrath.  
  
Isabela finally arrived at the port closest to Amaranthine, some of the sailors and dock workers yelling out their grettings to their Arl. Aren smiled at the sight of her Keep in the distance, feeling a certain balance restored in herself. She had a mess to sort out and a trial to arrange with Anders, and she was certain she would be flooded with questions from a desperate Nathaniel Howe, and likely a tongue lashing from Velanna for taking so long and leaving her to deal with humans and their politics and for not writing a single letter.  
  
She knew war was coming, one that would change the course of the world. But she had her Crow, and she had the support of the Champion and all of Ferelden behind her.  
  
Together, they'd meet this war, and they would bring it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd meant to post this earlier, but life got in the way of pretty much everything for quite a while.


End file.
